


Nightsy, Batsy

by Mgntc (mgntc_on_tumblr)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood mentioned, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgntc_on_tumblr/pseuds/Mgntc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bat!John struggles with bat stereotypes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightsy, Batsy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know who started (enter_animal)!John but I had an idea about short Bat!John fic. Enjoy

Of course he had heard about the legend of Dracula. And so did other people, everyone he had met before. Blood drinking, hair stucking, diseases spreading. If they weren't frightened, they were disgusted. No one likes bats. Even Mrs Hudson, thought friendly, keeps him at arm-lenght distance. Then, he met Sherlock. He was too dizzy to remember how he got into his hands, literally. Once he was aware of being carried by someone, he thought the worst. But later, he was hardly released from the man's hold because he wasn't caged in any way. He had a choice: just fly away or stay with someone who touched him for the first time in his life. He didn't think long, he took off as fast as he could. But the place proved to be indoor instead of outdoor and after a few circles he lost the sense of space and hit a wall hard and fell. Surprisingly, he didn't make it to the floor; he found himself in the familiar pair of hands that rubbed his small brused head. Perhaps it won't be that bad? And so he stayed.

He knew how the famous Dracula could change from human to bat form and vice versa. He was neither. He had, though small, a human head and a body of a bat. He couldn't change anything no matter how much he wanted. He couldn't have been anywhere near where _normal_ was. He was _defected_.

He also remembered the throat sucking. He hoped it's not true, it's not a fact that sooner or later will reveal as a part of his weird nature. Even glimpsing Mrs Hudson changing TV channels had shown every bat or vampire doing that. He couldn't ignore it like the rest of those myths because he had caught himself recently admiring Sherlock's neck. Sherlock was beautiful for him, every part of him was but he stared at the point beneath his chin and above the collar anyway. There was only one solution: when Sherlock didn't know something, he was experimenting. The matter was settled: he was going to try to bury his small teeth in that neck tonight.

It took him a few days before he got any opportunity. Sherlock had a few cases going at the same time and was rarely home. When the time has come, he found the detective in his bed wrapped in the duvet till his ears and sleeping deeply. Pushing it away was too great effort so he had to get under it, too. It was warm and cosy and the black curls felt amazing in touch. They were worthwhile distraction to spend time with but he came here with a purpose. He massaged the skin carefully not to scratch it with his wings until the sensation of someone else's pulse under his hands startled him. He rested his head there for a moment to imagine the feeling of blood pumping into his mouth and realised how stupid must have been the person who made it up. However, he didn't regret his experiment in the slightest. Relaxing to the soothing rhytm he drifted off to sleep to wake there the next morning, and the next, and the next.


End file.
